Bloom, RoseThe day I bloomed, The universe began to mistake me For a rose. And for every day afterward, I would never wither Honeybees trailed my colorful fumes, Mistaking my blood for nectar. Love chased after my heart, Mistaking its frigidness for warmth. Rain fell to my feet, Mistaking my legs for stems. Wind flowed through my hair, Mistaking each curl for petals. They say the universe has its truth That what blooms is a rose. And for every day since then, It’ll never wither The truths of the universe are never true, despite being called truths For I have thorns rather than petals, and cold blood rather than nectar A Dreamy ValleySeeds of my dreams are born so vivid, yet, so vague They plant roots deep into the mind Far enough that the qualms can’t plague Molding twisting routes for the soul to find The routes dip in deep, dark alleys Where light is fogged by impregnable doubts Everything but the seeds of my dreams withers in the valleys Leaving only my dreams surviving light’s droughts Blood Red Moon |
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